@ThugRaccoons: Farmer: You’d like to exchange nutrient rich manure for my agricultural expertise?
Me: Yes. Shit for brains, if you will. Lol.
@ThugRaccoons: Me: I’ll email the document, but I REFUSE to send it over telephone line.
Boss: What the hell are you talking about?
Me: I’m an anti-faxer.
@ThugRaccoons: Wife: OMG, stop saying that. You’re embarrassing me. You’re a waiter at a BBQ restaurant.
Me: I’ll thank you to refer to me as a porking attendant.
@ThugRaccoons: Me: Son, how many times have I told you to stop playing with dolls?
Son: I’m trying to teach CPR. Please get out.
@ThugRaccoons: Son: Dad, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend
Me: That’s a raccoon
Me: *tearing up* I’m so proud of you
@ThugRaccoons: Son: My pencil is stuck in this Spirograph.
Me: So, you’re having an exitstencil crisis?
@ThugRaccoons: Signs you’re a man:
*has a massive heart attack* It’s nothing, really. I’m fine.
*catches a cold* Gather ‘round children. My time is drawing nigh.
@ThugRaccoons: My kids and I have developed an intricate system of hand gestures to communicate nonverbally. Our go to gesture is the throat slit.
@ThugRaccoons: Me: Ahhhh. Just breathe in that salt air. Isn’t this nice?
Wife and kids: *choking in a salt mine* This vacation sucks!